


You're Worth the Pain

by hibiren



Series: Jay's Promptis Collection [9]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Asphyxiation, Blood, Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Choking, Gratuitous Blood, Gunshot Wounds, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M, Major Character Injury, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pain, Panic, Poor Prompto Argentum, Promptis - Freeform, Sorry Prompto, Whump, Whumptober, Whumptober 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2020-11-23 00:43:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20883353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hibiren/pseuds/hibiren
Summary: [Whumptober Day 4 Promptfill: "Human Shield"]"Prompto caught the pinpoint red sights of the imperial riflemen trained on the Prince and did the only thing his body could do: run. Forget all the training, the fight-or-flight, the textbook responses he should have been thinking of (and could internally hear Gladio yelling at him to stick with it)... one thought ran through Prompto’s mind on repeat.Please let me make it in time."





	You're Worth the Pain

**Author's Note:**

> **[extra explanation of warnings here, just in case!]** Since this is a whumptober prompt fill and I don't want to spoil too much! Just be aware that in this fic there is: gratuitous and/or graphic depictions of blood and injury, gunshot wounds, injury-related panic, bloody coughing/asphyxiation and general angst related to hurt/comfort whump. Other than that, enjoy the whumptober goodness! :D

The call came a second too late, as Noctis disappeared in a flash of blue magic to take down an oncoming infantryman. Gladiolus and Ignis had split off to try to draw fire, and it was working - the only downside being they were down two in their party and had to take on this fight alone. Prompto shouted over to Noctis a second time, but he caught the pinpoint red sights of the imperial riflemen trained on the Prince and did the only thing his body could do: run. Forget all the training, the fight-or-flight, the textbook responses he should have been thinking of (and could internally hear Gladio yelling at him to stick with it)... one thought ran through Prompto’s mind on repeat.

_Please let me make it in time._

Gunshots rang out like thundering explosions as Prompto and Noctis both dove for cover and hit the ground, with Noctis somewhat crushed beneath the weight of Prompto’s unexpected shove. Prompto rolled onto his side, off of Noctis, and that was when the pain hit. A sharp pain - two, then three, spreading through Prompto's entire stomach like molten fire until it dawned on him that _he’d been shot._ At least, Prompto thought with bitter thankfulness, his plan had worked.

“Stay here, cover me. I’ll finish them off.” Noctis instructed, eyes locked on the incoming enemies, before he raised his blade and warped off into the distance and the sounds of fighting resumed. It seemed like Noctis hadn’t realized that Prompto was injured, which the blond was thankful for. He could easily fix this with a potion or two, once the fight died down. As he always did; nothing to worry about. Until then he’d do his best to keep it together, for Noctis’ sake. A distraction, right now, could be fatal.

Prompto curled up onto his side and forced himself into a kneeling, braced stance. One gloved hand pressed to his heavily-bleeding stomach and the other shakily gripped his pistol; still ready to assist despite his pain. Prompto managed to pick off two infantrymen before the trembling in his arm was too intense to aim straight and the pain was impossible to ignore.

_We’re out of potions._

The thought hit Prompto as hard as the next wave of impending adrenaline-waned agony. He crumpled to the ground with tears in his eyes, clutching blindly at the bloodied fabric of his shirt although he knew that it would do little good. It hurt, and it hurt a _lot._ A choked gasp escaped as Prompto curled further into himself, as if it would help keep the blood from spilling too much. He could already feel his torn shirt wet against his gloved palms, blood soaking through the waistline of his pants and pooling against the ground.

“Prompto!!” came Noctis’ voice, sounding disembodied to Prompto’s incoherent state. _“Shit,_ why didn’t you say something?! Why didn’t you tell me you were hit!?”

The Prince swore again when he, too, realized with an upset brandishing of his hand that they were out of curatives. Out of everything. A terrified mutter of _“fuck”_ left Noctis’ lips, and Prompto just raised his head as much as he could, giving a weary smile through teary eyes as if to say, _don’t worry about me,_ before his head fell back and his curled-up form went limp.

“Prompto… Prompto?! No, no no no, oh no - shit…! _Ignis, Gladio…!_ Get over here, we need help _now!”_ Noctis was lucky his voice carried that far, because within the next ten seconds, the Shield and Tactician were at his side, breathless, both slightly bloodied and bruised themselves and unable to hide their panicked expressions at the sight before them.

There was nothing either of them could do aside from lay Prompto flat on his back and gently peel back the fragments of his shirt to assess the extent of the damage.

Their only perceivable chance now was to head back to the Regalia for their first aid kit, where the back-up supply of curatives was stored. Prompto was far too injured to move so Noctis did the next best thing, drawing his blade and sending it flying as far as he could toward the Regalia to shorten the amount of time he’d be away. He didn’t care that doing this repeatedly pulled at his strength until his vision almost blacked out - Prompto was more important, and he swore he wouldn’t let himself be taken by exhaustion before making sure Prompto would be alright.

_This is all my fault,_ Noctis cursed at himself, at having not only been unable to shield himself, but at the fact that Prompto was - _no, he’s not going to die from this, think, Noctis, think_ \- injured trying to protect him. Even Gladiolus seemed to take note of this when he caught sight of Prompto, limp and bloody on the ground, his shirt - what remained of it - riddled with tears from the force of the bullets’ impact. Unmoving. _He’s breathing, he’s still breathing, he won’t die, he can’t die,_ Noctis repeated to himself as he finally reached the parked Regalia, immediately snatching up the box with the curatives from the passengers’ front side - _Prompto’s_ side - and warped back.

Gladiolus was able to, with some assistance from his tank top bundled tightly in his hands, do some good in preventing any more of Prompto’s blood from spilling. It was just about all he could do while Noctis was gone. He applied even, steady pressure as Ignis watched them both, eyes locked on and waiting for any change in response, if any response at all. When the fabric of his shirt began to soak through, Gladiolus frowned and pressed down just slightly more and that was when Prompto let out a choking sound, coughing and spluttering and gagging as thick, alarming trails of blood and spit spilled from his lips, slicking down his chin and onto the ground. Prompto blindly clutched at his throat, clawing, eyes wide with terror. With Ignis’ help, Gladiolus guided Prompto onto his side to prevent further asphyxiation and watched with helpless worry as Prompto coughed and wheezed, easily staining the ground red as he struggled to breathe through the pain. Eventually, Prompto managed a pained exhale, a full breath past his weak, pitiful sobbing as he shakily wiped the back of a palm against his mouth, even though it just smeared more blood across his face. His eyes seemed like they'd roll back any moment, that he would still, but stubbornly as ever he still seemed to be trying his best to cling to what meager energy he had left to stay conscious.

“How… how is he?!” Noctis asked, struggling to balance the first aid box beneath his arm as he rejoined with the others. The Prince had a hand pressed to his head as if dizzy and Ignis went to tend to him, but Noctis pushed the Tactician’s worried hands aside to immediately go over to Prompto and gently touch his back. Thankfully there didn’t seem to be any serious wounds there, so Noctis gave him a worried rub and squeeze at his shoulder, and that was when Prompto’s eyes widened and searched frantically until landing on the Prince, and the box in his hands.

“You… you okay?” Prompto asked, and Noctis resisted the urge to smack him for his stubborn behavior, knowing that was the wrong thing to do. Instead, Noctis brandished the box and opened the lid, pulling out a potion bottle and showing it to Prompto.

“Don’t worry about me. I’m fine. I brought the potions. The whole box.”

Noctis, Ignis, and Gladiolus all watched as the procured potion took effect. Prompto’s skin where the bullets had entered knitted back together in an almost eerie way as the magic worked its course over him. Prompto gagged again but weakly raised a hand to cover his mouth and coughed more thick, crimson blood into his palm. Noctis just continued rubbing at Prompto’s back, feeling helpless still as he watched Prompto suffering on the ground before him.

“You’ll be alright, Prompto.” Turning to Ignis, Noctis ordered, “Find me the nearest hospital, clinic, a motel - something. We’re taking him there to rest for the night. We can’t keep moving if he’s down like this.”

“Agreed,” Ignis muttered, adjusting his glasses and glancing off into the distance, in the direction of where they’d left the Regalia hidden. “Come, we ought to leave now before the sun sets and we risk running into more trouble.”

“Get the car ready, we’ll meet you there,” Noctis said, and as Ignis darted off toward the car, let Gladiolus (with hissed directions made to _be fucking careful_) scoop Prompto into his arms to carry him back toward the Regalia, noting that trying to carry him with one arm over the shoulder would have likely put too much strain on Prompto’s weakened body. One of Prompto’s hands hung limply and Noctis took it, squeezing tightly. Prompto, ever so lightly, squeezed back.

_I’m so sorry, Prompto,_ Noctis wanted to say, but could only spare a glance at Prompto’s bloodied face, at the drying blood trails down his chin, before the nagging pain in his own heart made him look away. Never mind whatever injuries he had, the suffering the Prince was feeling - the _guilt_ from what had happened, hurt more than any physical wound. Later, some time later when they were both healed, he knew he was going to have a very long talk with Prompto about not being reckless, about not putting himself in such danger, about how much he cared about his friend - how much he _loved_ him, but it would have to wait, until they all were safe, healed, and out of danger. Whenever that would be.

The look in Prompto’s eyes, for the brief moment their gazes met, seemed to answer, _I’m just glad you’re okay._

**Author's Note:**

> it's been a good while since I've written whump but I hope it's satisfactorily angsty, hurt/comfort-y, and all gruesomely inspiring whumptober thoughts!


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